


in nomine diaboli

by kontj (kaguol)



Series: aegri somna vanna [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguol/pseuds/kontj
Summary: wherein mortals inadvertently open a portal to the underworld, bringing back one of hell’s most powerful demons— alt: haikyuu characters accidentally summoning a demon headcanons
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Tendou Satori/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Series: aegri somna vanna [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057532
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	in nomine diaboli

**— ☩** kuroo had always been a fan of learning foreign languages, so taking latin as a minor seemed like a great idea at the time

**— ☩** “that’s what you get for not dropping subjects,” says kenma, voice uninterested through the phone as kuroo wails about his professors. kuroo can already hear the smirk in his bestfriend’s tone.

**— ☩** “i’d much rather summon a demon,” he deadpans. kenma snorts. “yeah maybe then you’ll actually get some work done.”

**— ☩** the only reason why kuroo hasn’t hurled his phone through the wall is that it wouldn’t hurt kenma at all. _smug little shit_ , he thinks. his phone blips, and there’s an email from his latin professor, saying that their final would be moved, but there would be readings and quizzes staggered throughout the week.

**— ☩** “ **daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae,** ” kuroo whispers underneath his breath. he’d been swapping out curses with summoning phrases since his freshman year. as much as a taunt to the supernatural and a way to help him conjugate. so far not a single demon has come into his room so he’s probably out of the woods in that aspect, right?

**— ☩** he stands, heading to the shared kitchen to grab a piece of cake leftover from his flatmate’s party. kuroo hisses, the blood dripping to the floor. the wound is small, but he runs it under the sink with some soap before absentmindedly reaching over to the medicine cabinet.

**— ☩** “thanks.” “no problem.”

**— ☩** he stops in his tracks, brain whirring. that can’t be right, everyone else was in class. he’s home alone. he must be imagining things, mustn’t he? there’s no way in hell that he felt a hand give him the Band-Aids. there’s absolutely no way that someone replied to him either — 

**— ☩** “you know if you’re going to summon me, the least you could do is look me in the eye when you’re freaking out.”

**— ☩** kuroo turns, and his jaw drops. in front of him is the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. your eyes are of a vivid shade, your lips curled ever so slightly at the tips. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you a deity.

**— ☩** but you weren’t. he sees that now. what he thought was your shadow was a pair of wings, deeper and darker than any shade of black. he blinks, and your smile has stretched to your ears, revealing razor sharp teeth.

**— ☩** **“now why don’t we crack open your notes, see if this latin final is worth selling your soul for.”**

****

— **☩** his day was... weird to say the least.

— **☩** he just got back from the farmer’s market, and one of his purchases is two baskets of fresh strawberry jam. granted, it was much of a bargain as the stall was practically giving them away. and he might’ve gone overboard with buying two baskets, but he’ll make do.

— **☩** since the gym was closed and there wasn’t much to do, he donned his gardening clothes and went out back to tend to his plants. ushijima’s garden had all sorts of vegetables, and it pleased him to see that his tomatoes were growing prettily.

— **☩** as the sun began to reach the horizon his kettle whistled, calling him for tea. he put down his gardening gloves and headed inside, taking his towel and wiping the sweat off his brow. after thoroughly washing his hands, he prepared some tea, bringing it to the table in the backyard so he could admire the sun going down.

— **☩** ushijima took the loaf from his other basket, smiling to himself as the rich aroma of the still warm bread wafted in the air. humming to himself, he tkaes the bottle of jam, brows furrowed at the instructions.

— **☩** **‘the demons like sandwiches’** was written in really tiny font at the bottom, right after the ingredients list. shrugging, he pops open the cap and starts spreading it on the bread, unconsciously drawing the logo on the jar’s cap.

— **☩** as soon as he finishes lathering butter on another slice, he puts the two together, pleased with himself. with tea, a delicious snack and a nice view, all he needed now was— 

— **☩** looking up, ushijima finds a pair of eyes staring at him, jet black wings blocking his view of the sunset. too stunned to move and his brain going a mile a minute, he does nothing but stare at the creature. taking you in, he finds nothing out of the ordinary. save of course the curling horns and the tongue that darts out every few seconds.

— **☩** the tag pops in his head, and ushijima finds it in him to speak.

— **☩** “would you like a sandwich?”

— **☩** he knows he did something right when your eyes light up (quite literaly), and he watches silently as you open your mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth, only to nibble at the sandwich.

— **☩** wordlessly, he goes inside to fetch you a cup, pouring tea for the both of you. he learns that afternoon that demons have sweet tooth — teeth? teethes?? — and that you like a little bit of honey in your tea.

**— ☩** and just as swiftly did you arrive you left, the only trace of your visit the crumbs on your place and the crack in the porcelain cup when you first held it to your lips.

— **☩** **ushijima makes it a habit to set aside a plate every time he eats. just in case.**

****

— **☩** there is something different in the air tonight. tsukishima can sense it at the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite place it.

— **☩** firstly, he can’t sleep. that’s not surprising. well, technically he’s asleep. and also not.

— **☩** _sleep paralysis_ , he remembers yamaguchi telling him. the freckled boy had shuddered when he told him about it, his worry evident through the phone call. even in university, his bestfriend still didn’t lose his captain tendencies.

— **☩** the first time he experienced it, he wasn’t really phased. it felt strange to be able to see figures dark across the room, to see eyes where there were once only shadows. he never would’ve thought he’d be more afraid to not be alone in his own room.

— **☩** he hadn’t expected it to occur again, but this time he had prepared for it. sort of. he just read up on it a little bit and made sure to make himself feel a little more comfortable. and he set a timer on his phone just to make sure he doesn’t get sucked in to whatever plane is messing with his reality.

— **☩** he surely hadn’t expected to open his eyes and feel a weight on his chest. it wasn’t the kind that felt heavy. he could feel that something was atop him, but it was reassuring somehow. from his prone position he could barely make out a shadowy figure, as well as the several sets of eyes that once lurk in the corners slowly dissipate.

— **☩** he would argue that he slept more soundly during those nights. he doesn’t tell anyone this of course.

— **☩** after some time, he became a little too attached. he once caught himself putting a pillow on his chest before he went to bed, thinking that it wouldn’t’ve been nice to sit on him for such a long time. he had to take a shower then, lightly pressing his forehead against the cold wall because _what the fuck kei_

— **☩** he was so accustomed to this presence that he just started seeing the creature in his dreams. he catches snippets of their eyes, the curve of their mouth and the shape of their wings. it’s a blur, and he can’t exactly remember the details once he wakes up but he just knows.

— **☩** so when he found himself in the same paralytic state, with nothing but an empty room and a light chest, he’s surprised. there’s no scuttling around him, there are no shadow figures. just him in the middle of his dorm room.

— **☩** he had never felt so alone.

— **☩** he shrugs it off, but it’s evident that it’s getting to him after the third night. no weight, no dream, no whisper of where his sleep friend went.

— **☩** so, he does the rational thing one does when you’re missing your sleep paralysis demon: spend 10 hours looking browsing all mentions of the supernatural and how to communicate with them. 

— **☩** so, imagine this. you’re a sleep demon, chilling in the sleep-demon equivalent of a break room in hell, waiting for your shift to start, when a very lanky mortal salt-shaker in the form of blonde hair and brown eyes walks up to you with a stupid smile on his face. 

— **☩** **“there you are! i’ve been looking all over for you!”**

****

— **☩** his grandmother had just come back from visiting her friends in tokyo, and she brought home several large spools of yarn. she was so excited, as her friends were creating different styles and uploading it to their facebook group.

— **☩** kita, being the kind grandson he is, tried his hand at it. compared to the deft hands of his grandmother, his is very lopsided. he’s a bit confused as to why, since he’s doing everything right (in theory).

— **☩** his grandma is very patient with him, though. but some of his attempts just cannot be salvaged. seeing her grandson deflated? not on her watch!

— **☩** so she pulls out an old pattern book, flips to the middle page, and gives it to him. it’s a basic pattern for scarf. not too hard, right?

— **☩** at first, it takes kita a while to get it dow, but after sometime he’s got the hang of it, and he’s almost at the part where he has to make this nice little flower design.

— **☩** somewhere along the way he messed it up and instead crocheted a summoning sigil. not just any summoning sigil, the sigil for a demon of pestilence (in this case, well, you)

— **☩** to your surprise, instead of a warlock hell bent on getting revenge to the tyrant king who denied him of the princess’s hand in marriage (as do most of your transactions do), you find a tired rice farmer who fell asleep on his desk, a drop of blood enough to summon you, but not enough to rouse him.

— **☩** quite cute, you think, brushing his hair away from his face. looking out the window, you take a deep breath, smiling to yourself at the hum of quiet energy in the night. the crops seem to recoil at your presence, to which you only pouted.

— **☩** you reach into the last thoughts of the boy who summoned you, claws on your mouth to hide the laugh that it gets you. _i just want to make granny a nice scarf_ , you hear. it’s not enough to sell his soul over, but, you can take something else.

— **☩** kita wakes up in a daze, shocked at the several crocheted scarves neatly stacked in a pile on his desk, each one with the distinct smell: one that reminded him of fires in the winter. he doesn’t remember finishing his first scarf, let along three more - and he definitely doesn’t remember writing himself a reminder to not lose sleep.

— **☩** he tells his grandmother about it, and she insists that he leave an offering at the shrine. he bites his lip and does what he’s told, though some part of him knows that it was not a holy entity that was responsible for it. his suspicions are confirmed when he stops at the base of the mountain, faced with a figure with cunning eyes and a sinful grin.

— **☩** **“did your grandma like the scarf?” says the devil, smiling at him as they wear his old inarizaki jacket.**

****

— **☩** before there was world renowned pâtissier tendou satori, he was kitchen disaster tendou satori.

— **☩** or, in your case, the spiky red head weirdo who managed to free you from the most intricate and most difficult containment spell that held you in the center of the earth for over a thousand years.

— **☩** the first thing you felt was the lightness of your chest - the stone placed upon by the seraphim slowly disappearing. you breathe in the air, and are struck with the realization of the passage of time.

— **☩** the first thing you hear is a scream, and the first thing you see is a mortal looking up at you in shock. he doesn’t look like a powerful mage, and from his smell, you sense nothing of notable regard for him.

— **☩** “how did you do that?” comes out of your mouth, your voice raspy from centuries of disuse. the cutlery in the room shiver, and the boy in front of you screams once more, turning to the leather bound book and frantically flipping through the pages.

— **☩** “i don’t know!” he screams, holding up a large wooden object in your direction. you hold your hands up, freezing in place. in theory you’re probably a hundred times more powerful than he, but if he undid the containment and summoned you to the mortal realm, there was something powerful in him.

— **☩** “you’re supposed to be a birthday cake!” you quirk your eyebrow, following his gaze to your feet, where a mass of purple and white lay. tongue darting out, you chomped on the untouched piece, sighing at the sweetness. this is nice, you think, your tongue snaking out to get another.

— **☩** tendou watches with both fascination and horror. ‘there is a demon in my cake’ is technically a grammatically correct sentence, but never in his entire life did he think he’d have to say it with such clarity. i mean, sure, you’re a eight foot eldritch horror come to life, but he can’t deny that you looked like a child on christmas morning when you first bit into the cake.

— **☩** “hey you!” you stop midchew, staring up the redheaded mortal. “you’re an all powerful... _something_ , right?” you nod. “if you turn human size i’ll make you more cake.”

— **☩** tendou saw flames in your eyes, before the looming figure disappeared in a puff of smoke, only turning into the human equivalent of the word ‘ethereal’, save for the rows of sharp teeth. he exhales appreciatively, before snapping himself out of his trance. extending a hand, tendou bares a grin. “tendou satori, third year patissier.”

— **☩** you stop, your brain adjusting to the mortal confinement and the knowledge of the boy’s language. you blurt out your given name, the harsh syllables sending the condiments toppling over. pausing, you try and translate it in the boy’s mothertongue.

— **☩** **“it means destroyer of worlds and harvester of souls,”** you add. **“but you can call me y/n.”**


End file.
